Slow Play
by ibuzoo
Summary: It's winter, when she first notices.


**o.**

It's winter, when she first notices.

* * *

**i.**

They're sitting in their favourite Starbucks, near the campus and the whole clique is laughing and talking about the dissertation that's due for Professor Dumbledore next week, discussing terms and questions, trying to follow the brilliant ways and thoughts Tom and Hermione are throwing back and forth like a rapid shootout between two machine guns.

There's Rosier and Rodolphus, Avery trying to balance four cups of coffee, Rabastan throwing his black hair back and exposing his throat while laughing, one foot supported on the table they're gathering around, Abraxas approaching the friends with a whole bunch of sweets like donuts and cupcakes with a delicious pink frosting on top. But all she sees is the way Tom's grey eyes glint each time Hermione ruins his answers, with a trace of amusement, a playful game.

Hermione rises as soon as her mobile rings, excuses herself and leaves the coffee shop, brushing Tom while doing so and he breaths in, deep, delighted, and then out.

Bellatrix watches as his gaze rests on Hermione, even after she left, his eyes still keen on the girl shivering outside while talking because she forgot her jacket, silly girl, but Tom's gaze never falters.

Bella looks at Rosier right beside her, whispers to not stir Tom's attention, asks him, „Does this happen often?"

But Rosier doesn't answer, stays silent, sips his coffee, just ducks his eyes away and she knows the answer is _'yes'_.

* * *

**ii.**

It's snowing outside.

* * *

**iii.**

They're doing dodgy dealings, nothing to dangerous and nothing that raises too much suspicion, Tom a master in deception and manipulating the right people to keep their distance, to keep them at arm's length.

Usually Hermione's not a part of this, usually she stays away, doesn't want to get involved with this _'Tom'_, but not tonight. Not this time.

When they regroup later in the night, early dawn breaks and all of them lick their wounds, patching each other up, Bella's eyes follow both of them around in Greyback's flat. They hiss and speak in whispers, all body and eyes and it lasts mere minutes before Tom takes her to the bedroom, closes the door behind them.

„I think he was scared," she whispers to Rabastan and Rodolphus, both giving her confused looks and she rolls her eyes, gives an annoyed huff and speaks again, willing to clarify herself, says, „I think Tom was scared. The moment she appeared in the warehouse and the guard had her in his sight. Her pushed her and told her to run, remember?"

But Rabastan stays stoic, tense, nearly snaps, „No", and as if to prove his point he barks again, angry, „No he wasn't. He can't be."

_(but he was, she thinks, doesn't say, he still is)_

* * *

**iv.**

It's snowing again days later, night has long fallen and Bella is leaving their headquarter with Tom at her side, both wrapped in warm winter coats and scarfs, their breath creating little white clouds of frost in the cold air. She watches snow flakes fall on her dark curls, on the luxurious fur around her shoulders while she listens to Tom's orders for the other members, wonders where Hermione fits in all this, so she stops short and asks, calm, „What about Hermione?"

There's a pause in his composure, a shift in his eyes and she watches his shoulder tense, hands tighten, taking deep breaths before he continues to give orders, ignoring her question outright.

She doesn't ask again.

* * *

**v.**

She thought about being at Tom's side, years ago when she still was the only girl around, felt herself privileged to be his chosen Lady and she loved the way the others saw her, all leather and whips and teasing smirks, a pale beauty with wild black curls.

But one day Tom brought Hermione around and before she could do anything about it, the girl stayed. The girl with even wilder honey-brown locks and dark brown eyes, the sharp brilliance of Tom, the same biting sarcasm as him too and both talked about books that none of them ever heard of.

_(she never harboured a grudge against the girl though, she never could have keep up with Tom anyways)_

* * *

**vi.**

She sees the way Hermione looks at Tom, the way Tom looks at Hermione and Bellatrix spares a glance to Avery, gives him a meaningful look but he ignores it, casts his eyes to the ground and falls silent again.

She knows.

And Avery knows too.

* * *

**vii.**

The winter's still not over.

* * *

**viii.**

Snow falls hard and Bellatrix can barely hear the clashing of her own teeth, thinks, this is it, this is how they'll die and the thought scares her, just a minute, though the frost eats itself deep in her skin and lets her drop everything else.

When she closes her eyes there's a moment she's reminded of all the times before when she had thought about her death, perhaps from strayed bullets during one of their missions, or behind the wheel of a car, the speed rushing through her veins, crashing against a wall, suddenly losing her bodily functions, dying.

Tom doesn't say anything, hasn't said anything since they were separated from Hermione and Bellatrix could feel the rage radiating in waves from his body, his temper right under his skin and Bella takes a breath, her voice shaking, rasping from the cold, „She's alright."

She watches as Tom pauses but he doesn't look around, tenses even more before he presses, urges, „She's fine" and there's a moment of silence, then he moves on, whispers, „She's fine."

„She can handle herself, Tom."

„I know she can."

* * *

**ix.**

Later, merely minutes, when the snow finally stops and Bellatrix can breath again, they suddenly hear Abraxas and Hermione and Tom freezes, stops to the point and his whole body goes still as soon as Hermione comes in view. They stare at each other and Bellatrix feels an awful lot like she's watching a horrible Nicholas Sparks movie with a plot line too similar to Titanic, because suddenly the girl is moving, Tom following right in, meets her half way and it's not really a surprise when they finally kiss, their hands tangling in each others hair and it looks painful how they're clawing and grasping at each other like they're the only thing they have to live for.

It's annoying because Bellatrix is still freezing and Abraxas need to give her a hand so she can stand, breaths cold air and Abraxas gives her a look, nods to the lovers and whisper, „Finally."

Bellatrix smiles.

_(finally, finally)_

* * *

**x.**

The snow stops.

* * *

**xi.**

It's days later, early in the morning when Rodolphus rolls over to face her, bodies tangled in sheets and he's kissing her shoulders, breaths against them, „I believe you. I know Rabastan can't handle the idea of Tom being scared about anything, always sees him as the Master. But I believe you."

It takes her some time to connect the dots, thinks about the night from the warehouse there the guard nearly killed Hermione, but his dark voice continues before she can, „Whenever he talks about her, it's almost reverently, almost-"

„Loving?"

„Obsessive."

Bellatrix nods, slowly, thoughtful while she draws patterns on Rodolphus' naked chest, „Do you think he loves her?"

There's a pause before his deep baritone rumbles again, „Does it matter?"

„I think it does," she whispers, and leaves kisses on his collarbone, smooths her hands over his rough skin, „If i loved someone as much, i'd never let them go."

He laughs and his body rumbles under her hand, his voice amused, „What makes you think he'll ever let her go?"

There's a smile on her lips, even if it's a cruel one and she closes her eyes, kisses him deeply, thinks, '_what indeed?'_.

* * *

**xii.**

She wants to ask when it started, and when it happened, and what the end product is going to be. But it's enough to see Hermione smile with the brightest eyes, to see Tom smirk, and watch, as they just are.

* * *

**xiii.**

The winter ends.


End file.
